


His Last Life's Love

by poppyfields



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Past Lives, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyfields/pseuds/poppyfields
Summary: Everyone knows their past lives, at the very least their last one, and there are people who take them very seriously.Kenma's not one of them.He doesn't care what his past life did for a job, he doesn't care where he lived, he doesn't care who he was married to, that is, until he realises who she was reincarnated as.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	His Last Life's Love

Kenma thought past lives were bullshit. It’s not that he thought they weren’t true, he’d seen the science, he understood how it all worked, he would be stupid to deny it. Yamamoto was a past life denier, and Kenma thought that said enough.

He knew they were real, he trusted the documents that described his own, he had felt one memory, he thought, from his last life, but he still thought it was all stupid. He didn’t see why they mattered, honestly. He was a different person than he’d been in his last life, completely different.

His last life he’d owned a bookstore, in Osaka. His parents had taken him on a trip to see it when he was five years old. They’d introduced him to the old man’s children, his grandchildren, as if he was supposed to remember them. As if he was supposed to love them. He didn’t. They were just strangers. Strangers who had known him in a past life.

The old man’s wife, he’d been married since the 1930’s, had died just a year after he had, and Kenma’s parents had been determined to find out who she was reincarnated as, where she had been reborn. You can’t actually find those things though. A person’s past lives were known only by them immediate family, unless they chose to share. It was dictated by international law, mostly to prevent people from revenge-killing babies.

The old man’s family told Kenma’s family she had been reincarnated in Japan, though. They said they’d met the baby. They’d smiled so sweetly at Kenma as they talked to him.

“We really hope you two meet again,” the old man’s daughter told Kenma, “You two really loved each other in the last life.”

She seemed on the edge of crying, and Kenma, even at five years old, knew better than to tell her he and this person had never met, and he wasn’t her father, and the other child wasn’t her mother. He knew better than to say any of that, but that was all he could think to say so he just stayed silent.

“Well, let us know if they reach out to you again,” Kenma’s mother smiled, much more moved by the declaration of past love than Kenma was, “We would be happy to meet with them if they’re willing.”

Kenma frowned silently, wondering why exactly his mother was allowed to make decisions about his own past lives for him. Though he’d already spent a good portion of his five years alive accepting things he didn’t understand. It was easier than to argue.

* * *

“Yeah, I’m really good at jumping,” the new first year they’d added to their team told them, the first time someone complimented him on his vertical leap, “My last life was a ballerina.”

Kenma rolled his eyes, one more thing to dislike about this new spiker.

Kuroo laughed, “You should know Lev, Kenma hates past lives.”

“What?” The spiker turned his gaze on him, shocked, but his general cheerfulness made it look like excitement, “Why? Was your past life a murderer or something?”

“No,” Kenma spat, glaring at Kuroo for turning the attention to him.

“He was just a boring bookstore owner,” Kuroo explained for him, pointedly ignoring the glare, “He’s jealous, cuz I was a war hero.”

“He fought for _Japan_ in World War II, Kuroo,” Kenma explained for the millionth time, “he wasn’t a hero.”

“My last life fought in the war, too,” Yaku added, “Though he was _definitely_ not a hero. He murdered, like, a lot of people.”

“That explains a lot,” Fukunaga teased, immediately cowering as Yaku turned a glare on him.

“It doesn’t explain anything,” Kenma muttered, he was surrounded by idiots, “Past lives don’t mean anything.”

“Well mine was really hot,” Inouka chimed in, and Kenma thought he’d probably wanted to say that for a while, given how little it had to do with what had just been said.

“You can’t find your own past life hot Inouka,” Kuroo was just as easily derailed from their original conversation, “That’s creepy.”

“You can’t?” Lev asked, eyes wide, and Kenma decided he no longer needed to be a part of this conversation. It was all so stupid. All this past life nonsense. Lev wasn’t a fucking ballarina and Yaku wasn’t a war criminal and he wasn’t a bookshop owner from Osaka. 

The kid, one year younger than him and living somewhere in Japan, who had in their last life been his wife, was just a kid, like him. They probably had nothing in common. They probably wouldn’t even like each other.

* * *

His mom still hadn’t given up on getting them together. She still visited the book store any time they went to Osaka, which was as often as she could come up with an excuse to, and talked with the old man’s family.

Apparently the kid, the old woman’s next life, visited about once a year, though the family never told Kenma’s mom anything about them. Apparently they still didn’t want to meet Kenma, and Kenma couldn’t help but feel a little glad.

Kenma really didn’t want to meet the kid. Mostly because he knew the second he did his mom would be ready for him to fall in love. She’d always been overly excited for him to fall in love, setting him up on playdates with girls his age since he was a baby, and getting way too excited when he brought a female friend over after school, or one said hi to him when they were out in public together.

Kenma didn’t like girls, though. He never had. He didn’t like _people_ , to be completely honest, but he could still tell the difference between his general distaste for the world and his complete lack of interest in girls. He was gay, not that he was particularly enamoured with guys as a whole, but the same way he could tell he didn’t like girls, he could tell he liked guys.

He liked one guy, actually, though that was a recent development. The first time he’d really had a real crush, on the orange-haired first year from Karasuno.

So no, he didn’t want to meet his past-lives wife. His past life wasn’t anything like him, and he didn’t want to fall in love with the person he’d fallen in love with. He wanted a love that was his own. His choice, not his mom’s. His feelings, not anyone else’s. His partner, not his past life’s.

* * *

“What’s that?” one of the Karasuno first years, the one who’s name Kenma could never remember, said over Shoyo’s shoulder at the book that had fallen out of his bag.

It was the first night of their training camp at Kenma’s school and they were all settling into their beds. Kenma was cross-legged on his futon, playing video games and letting himself eavesdrop on the other team’s conversation across the room.

“A book,” Shoyo responded, shoving it back into his bag.

“Well, I knew that much,” the other first year told him.

“You can read?” Tsukishima asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose and looking a little too proud of himself for such a mediocre insult.

There was no wondering why he was so cocky, though, because the second he said it the other first year started hissing like it was the funniest thing that had ever been said.

“It’s um, it belonged to my last life,” Shoyo admitted, and Kenma’s eyes immediately flicked over to him, “I like to keep it with me.”

Shoyo looked serious, and his hand was still in his bag, still touching the book that Kenma couldn’t see. He believed in past lives? Like, he cared about them? He’d heard of people carrying charms from their past lives, there were people who treated them almost like deities. Was Shoyo like that? Kenma wouldn’t know how to deal with that.

“Oh god,” Tsukishima grinned, looking over at his friend, “You're sixteen and you can’t be without your past life charm? That’s pathetic.”

The friend laughed, though even Kenma, who was not good at recognizing fake laughs, could tell that was a fake laugh. 

“Yeah, Hinata, do you think they’re gonna help you play volleyball or something?”

“No,” Hinata pushed his teammate away from his shoulder, “I just like her. Like a grandma or something. She was a really nice lady.”

Tsukki just snorted and the other first year looked over at his friend for confirmation that they were done, then the two of them left Hinata and started talking about something else. Kenma didn’t even realise his eyes were still on Shoyo until the little middle blocker looked up and their eyes caught each other’s.

Kenma quickly flicked his gaze back down to his PSP, ignoring the warm spread of a blush over his cheeks at the embarrassment of being caught staring. He felt Shoyo’s gaze drop off him a second later.

So, Shoyo cared about past lives, though he didn’t seem too weird about it. His past life was a woman, too. It didn’t mean anything, lots of guys had female past lives, and girls had male ones, but for some reason it stuck out to Kenma. Maybe it was just because it mattered to Shoyo, because he had that book. Kenma would like to see what book it was.

* * *

It didn’t come up for another two days, the topic of past lives. Normally that would be way too soon for Kenma, normally he didn’t want to hear any of it, but Shoyo cared about it, and it made Kenma want to care about it too. 

“And he was like,” Nishinoya Yuu was leaning so far over the dinner table he was practically the centerpiece as he told the story, well enough that Kenma was pretty sure he’d told it before, probably many times, “‘You even look like her’,” he said that part in a low, flirtatious voice, before returning to his own voice, “and he put his hand on my face and, like, brushed away my hair.”

“No way,” Bokuto gasped from down the table, looking extremely invested in the story.

“Was he at least hot?” Kuroo asked, teasingly.

“He was like 36, bro,” Nishinoya answered honestly, making Kuroo laugh at the implication that the age was more important than the gender, though Nishinoya didn’t seem to notice the joke, “I mean, like, I feel bad that his girlfriend’s dead, but like, I’m not her, dude.”

“That’s so creepy,” Bokuto said, shaking his head, “My past life died alone.”

The whole table groaned at Bokuto for bringing down the lighthearted mood.

“What?” he objected, “It’s true! He died alone and I’m going to, too!”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi hummed from beside him, placing a careful hand on his shoulder, “We’ve been over this, that’s not how it works.”

Bokuto, now with his head hung low and Akaashi’s hand on his shoulder, started talking a lot quieter, and the two of them separated from the table’s conversation to have one of their own. The rest of the boys looked around the table, waiting for someone to be the next to speak.

“What was your last life, Kenma?” Shoyo finally spoke up from his seat across the table.

“Oh,” Kenma focused his eyes on his plate ignoring the giant wave of eyes flicking over to him, “Nothing special. He owned a bookstore in Osaka.”

Shoyo didn’t say anything, instead, Tanaka spoke up, “Mine was a musician, that’s why I have such good rhythm.”

Kenma raised his head at the lack of response from his friend, only to see Shoyo staring at him. He broke his gaze when Kenma met it, heat visibly reaching his cheeks. What was that? Did that mean something to him? A bookstore in Osaka? It couldn’t mean much, could it?

Kenma wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it meant. He didn’t know if he wanted someone to ask Shoyo what his last life was. He did know he wasn’t prepared to do it, and eventually it became clear no one else would. So the conversation ended and he still didn’t know.

* * *

Kenma looked over the evidence in his mind one more time before he went to sleep, though he’d said “one more time” about six times now. His past life lived in Osaka, he’d had a wife, his wife had died a year after he had, so she was reincarnated as someone one year younger than Kenma. 

Shoyo was one year younger than Kenma, his last life had been a “nice old woman”, who’d owned a book, and he’d looked shocked when he heard Kenma describe his last life. He also knew whoever the wife was reincarnated as had visited the bookstore, many times, was nice, according to the family, and lived somewhere in Japan, though the family had never told him where.

It certainly wasn’t conclusive. Most people’s past lives were old, most people had owned books at some point in their life, even if they weren’t married to a bookshop owner, and there were a whole generation of people one year younger than Kenma, Shoyo’s age certainly wasn’t a deciding factor.

But then, there was the way he’d looked at dinner. The way he’d stared at Kenma. The way he’d turned away and blushed. And there was the fact that it would be so perfect. It would be so perfect and amazing and wonderful if his past life’s great love had been Hinata Shoyo, Kenma’s first crush.

Which was stupid. It was stupid to think those things. Kenma was sounding like his mother. Past lives didn’t matter and they didn’t affect your life, your feelings. Kenma liked Shoyo because he was funny and cute, not because some dead guy had loved some dead woman before either of them were alive. That didn’t mean anything. That wasn’t significant.

“No way,” Kuroo said when Kenma told him his theory, as if it was significant, as if it was the most significant piece of information that had ever existed, “No fucking way, Hinata’s your wife?”

“No,” Kenma hissed, making sure no one was around to hear Kuroo’s rather loud voice, “I said he _might_ be the _reincarnation_ of _my past life’s_ wife. And it doesn’t matter either way.”

“Are you kidding?” Kuroo asked, eyes wide, “That’s crazy! You guys are soul-”

Kenma shoved him hard before he could finish the word. They weren’t soulmates. Soulmates didn’t exist, and if they did, they were determined by things like communication, and trust, and the effort put into a long-lasting relationship, not stupid things like past lives. 

He knew they weren’t soulmates and if he let Kuroo say that, if he let himself think it, he would soon forget that fact.

“What? What’s wrong with it?” Kuroo asked him, offended, “You like him, don’t you?”

“He- That doesn’t mean we’re soulmates,” Kenma argued.

“Yeah, but your past lives being married?”

“They might have been,” Kenma corrected, “I don’t know for sure, and also that doesn’t mean we’re soulmates either.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo frowned, in that way he did when he thought Kenma was being ridiculous.

“Whatever, I shouldn’t have even told you.”

“Oh you totally shouldn’t have,” Kuroo grinned, mischievously.

“No,” Kenma started, “Please, no.”

“Sorry,” Kuroo said with a shrug, before walking towards the cafeteria, where everyone was having breakfast, “You shouldn’t have told me.”

* * *

“Hinata, what was your last life?” Kuroo stood above the table where the first year was eating with a couple of his teammates.

Immediately, the little ginger turned red, eyes flicking to Kenma, who was standing behind Kuroo, having arrived a second too late to stop the question. 

“You don’t have to tell him,” Kenma urged, hoping Shoyo knew he had nothing to do with this random interrogation.

“No, tell me,” Kuroo pushed, bracing an arm against the table to lower himself onto the bench across from Shoyo, “I’ll tell you mine.”

“Um,” Shoyo’s eyes dashed between Kenma and Kuroo, “It’s fine, it was just a normal woman.”

“Japanese?” Kuroo asked, it was uncommon for someone to be reincarnated more than a thousand kilometers from where they died, but it happened.

“Yeah, um,” Shoyo’s eyes looked down to his rice, “She was born in Kyoto.”

“Where’d she die?”

Kenma felt his face growing as red as Shoyo’s, and he tugged on Kuroo’s shoulder, “Come on, leave him alone.”

“Why? I’m not doing anything,” Kuroo argued, even though Kenma knew he was acutely aware of what he was doing, “I’m just curious,” he leaned across the table, “So?”

“She died in Osaka,” Shoyo said, raising his head up to look at Kuroo again, though he didn’t look at Kenma, “That’s where she lived most of her life.”

“That’s where her family lives, right?” Kuroo turned his head to Kenma as he said that, “Where her husband owned a bookstore?”

Shoyo looked down at the table again. With his head turned he couldn’t look at Kuroo and he couldn’t look at Kenma for another reason. Kenma’s heart was thundering, waiting for Shoyo to deny it. Waiting for Shoyo to say something, anything, that would mean Kuroo was wrong.

When Shoyo spoke, though, his eyes still on the food in front of him, he didn’t deny anything.

“They told me the husband died a year before her,” Shoyo muttered, “They always asked if I wanted to meet, um,” finally his eyes flickered up to Kenma, “His next life.”

Kenma’s stomach flipped. That was right. His mom had told the family they wanted to meet the reincarnation. The family must have told Shoyo as much, and he hadn’t wanted to meet Kenma. He had chosen not to. He must have had a reason for that. Kenma shouldn’t have done this.

“Um,” Kenma stalled, knowing the eyes on him meant he was expected to speak, “I’m really sorry, Shoyo,” it was all he could think to say before he tugged harder on Kuroo’s shoulder, “Let’s go, Kuroo.”

* * *

Kenma’s face was burning with embarrassment the entire walk across the cafeteria, and Kuroo behind him, telling him everything he’d done wrong, everything he should have done, was not making anything better.

“He probably thinks you hate him right now,” Kuroo said, unhelpfully, “He told you you were his husband and you immediately left, that was so rude.”

“I didn’t want him to tell me that,” Kenma spat back, “I didn’t want any of that to happen Kuroo, why can’t you just fucking listen to me?”

“Woah, are you mad at me?”

“Of course I’m mad at you, asshole,” Kenma bristled, “You just harassed him for no reason! I told you not to do that!”

“He’s your wife, Kenma,” Kuroo said with a smile, unfazed by his best friends anger, “You didn’t want to know that?”

“I didn’t! And don’t say that, it’s- you’re making it sound weird.”

They grabbed their breakfast, and sat at a table far from Shoyo and his friends. Kuroo wasn’t teasing Kenma any more, but he was still watching him, waiting, as if they’d pressed pause on the conversation and he was waiting for Kenma to start it again.

“Should I go talk to him?” Kenma asked after a silent minute of moving food around with his chopsticks, finding himself with no appetite.

“Yeah,” Kuroo said softly, “You probably should.”

Kenma pushed himself off the table, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have, though he had no idea what exactly he wanted to say. He turned around taking a deep breath before he looked to the table they’d been to before.

Shoyo wasn’t there. Kenma’s eyes flicked down the table, noticing the half-eaten breakfast still there. Shoyo had left the cafeteria without finishing his meal. Kenma had to find him.

* * *

“Shoyo?” Kenma asked as he stepped into the gym. He’d checked half the school before he got here, though this probably should have been his first guess. The echoing of the volleyball filled the room as Shoyo bumped it up to different points against the wall in front of him.

Shoyo turned his head and the ball dropped, bouncing across the gym.

“Kenma,” Shoyo spoke, just loud enough for Kenma to hear, “Hi.”

“Hi, um,” Kenma started walking over to him, hoping words would come to him on the way, “I’m sorry, about Kuroo.”

“Yeah,” Shoyo smiled, looking just an inch from genuine, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it, I, um, I was going to talk to you about it anyway.”

“It doesn’t- I mean,” Kenma started, “I don’t care about that kind of stuff,” Shoyo broke eye contact, and Kenma didn’t know what that meant, “Like, if you don’t care, I don’t care.”

Shoyo looked back at him, “I- I don’t really care, but, um,” Kenma’s heart started beating, trying not to imagine how Shoyo was going to finish the sentence, “She really loved him, or, that’s what the family said. They said it was hard for her in that last year, without him.”

“Yeah,” Kenma admitted quietly. Shoyo had probably heard the same stories he’d heard his whole life. About their lives. About their love.

“I guess I always felt a little guilty, um, that I wasn’t reuniting her with her love, or whatever.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I’ve never really thought about that.”

For a second it was silent. The volleyball had stopped bouncing and there was nothing else they could say. Kenma’s heart was still pounding as he watched Shoyo, letting it sink in that he was the person he’d loved in his last life. That he was the person his mom had always told Kenma he should meet, he should fall in love with.

“Well, I guess there’s nothing to feel guilty about any more,” Shoyo smiled, “We’re reunited.”

Kenma blinked at him, in the bright light of Shoyo’s grin. “Yeah,” he mumbled, feeling suddenly very shy, “We are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this pretty quick and I've never really done AU stuff before, not that this is all that different from the canon. Might do a chapter 2 of them getting together or something, if anyone would read that let me know.


End file.
